


Haiku

by Yukio



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Getting Together, Haiku, Japan, Love Confessions, M/M, Samurai Leo, Taikomochi Mikey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukio/pseuds/Yukio
Summary: Feudal Japan. The secret hidden in the few verses of a haiku goes deeper than to what is obvious.Mikey is trying to teach Leo something about the beauty of Japanese poetry. His efforts pay off in the form of a haiku Leo writes for him.The story won the 2nd place in the TMNT Reader's Choice Award 2018 in the Most Compelling Fan made AU category.





	Haiku

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is inspired by my Japanese AU where Leo is a samurai and Mikey a taikomochi (male geisha), and it may or may not be a part of a much longer fanfiction I intend to write. The two haiku I used in the story are my own creations and they are the second and the third haiku I've ever tried to write (the very first one was just a joke with the fitting number of syllables).

_As beautiful as_  
_The blade of a katana_  
_You have pierced my heart_

“What do you say, Michelangelo-san?” Leo asked, his heart hammering in his chest with nervousness as he waited for the verdict.

“Hmmmmm…” Michelangelo’s eyes narrowed as he read the poem one more time and then again. “Not bad… Are you sure no one helped you?”

“If you by no one mean the great poets of our country, then yes, I’m sure,” Leo said, his heart still beating fast, but this time with a different kind of emotion. A gentle smile curled his lips as he watched the golden-haired taikomochi in front of him. The foreign beauty had caught Leo’s attention the very first day just like everyone’s, but it was Michelangelo’s kindness and intelligence that struck the samurai’s heart. “You don’t trust me?” he asked and leaned closer to look at the piece of paper in the taikomochi’s hands.

“I would never dare to doubt your words, Leonardo-san,” Michelangelo said in a serious tone, but Leo noticed that the corners of his mouth were twitching with a suppressed smile.

“What?” Leo asked. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Michelangelo said quickly. “For your first haiku, it’s perfect.”

“But? What aren’t you telling me?”

“What season is it? There’s not word reflecting to the time of a year,” Michelangelo said, his quiet amusement turning into a grin from ear to ear. “What did we talk about yesterday? Where is the nature in the poem? Where are sakura trees and fireflies? Where are flower petals?” the taikomochi went on, not noticing that Leo’s smile was gradually turning from genuine to rigid.

“Yes, well, I know… I’m not a poet. I’m a warrior…” he said to his defense.   

“I can tell,” Michelangelo laughed and read the haiku one more time. “I like it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. May I keep it?”

“Of course. I wrote it for you.” Leo said.

When he saw the smile that brightened that beautiful face, he thought that the little bit of awkwardness was worth it.

*

The dim light of lamps illuminated the rooms of the most famous okya in the city. In one of them Mikey was sitting on a silky pillow, reading the three verses of Leonardo’s poem over and over again. He was still amused by the fact that even though he had gone through the trouble to introduce the greatest poets throughout the history of Nippon to the samurai, Leonardo had still ignored the traditional tropes and had chosen to compose an ode to the beauty and deadly sharpness of his respectable weapon. What else could Mikey expect from someone coming from the warrior class?

The perfect poetry form, created with the intention to capture a certain fleeting moment of a man’s life, so fragile in its loveliness, was brought to him, capturing eternity in a few powerful words. The poem worth a brave katana wielder…

And yet, there was something about the haiku that didn’t let the taikomochi go to sleep. Mikey felt there was more about those simple words than just a celebration of cold steel. Something deep, running right through one’s heart, cruel and beautiful…

His eyes widened as he read the haiku one more time. How could he be so blind and miss something so obvious? How come he hadn’t seen the poem for what it truly was? He had sorely underestimated Leonardo’s ability to use metaphors.

It was a confession, elementary and imperfect, but the sweetest one of all the love confessions he had ever received. He could see the hard work of someone whose skill lay in wielding a sword more than in wielding a brush. How many times had Leonardo rewritten his small piece of literary art? How much effort had it cost him to find the right words to wrap his heart into? Mikey could appreciate that. It was more than anyone had ever done for him.

A soft rustle of paper sounded in the room. A brush left black lines connecting into characters. A poem was being born during the summer night, a reply, truth captured in three verses.

 

_Two samurai swords_  
_I’m saying yes to daishō_  
_Side by side with you_


End file.
